


Big Things, Little Packages

by Anilkex



Series: You Are The Third Winchester [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Cursed Dean, Gen, Schmoop, Third Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My muse requested a story featuring Dean depending on others for his very survival.  I will never turn down a chance to write vulnerable Dean coupled with schmoop.  Ever.  Third Winchester AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Things, Little Packages

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after the 12 Days of Christmas story. If you're not familiar with my You Are The Third Winchester AU, please check my profile.
> 
> This is, hands down, my favorite story in the verse. I tried a lot of new things while writing it, and I'm really happy with how it turned out.

“Hey Bobby...”

“Hey yourself. How’s it going?”

“Um...you know...same old shit…” _Where did the little asshole go?_

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...why?” _He isn’t under the bed...maybe the closet._

“You have that distracted quality to your voice. The one that tells me you’re only half listening to what I’m saying.”

“What? No, I’m totally listening.” _Fuck, not in the closet._

“Kate…” 

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was about to tell Bobby everything when I heard a tiny cough coming from the bathroom. 

_A-ha…_

“Hold on, Bobby...” I put the phone on the table and quietly crept to the bathroom. Sure enough, from the cabinet under the sink came another tiny cough, this time followed by a small voice saying, “ _Fuck…_ ”

I yanked open the cabinet door and glared at the child inside. He was about four years old, with dark blond hair, chubby cheeks, and deep green eyes. They looked up and me and narrowed. “I’m not coming out, so fuck off.” The boy’s voice shook and he crossed his arms on his chest.

“You can’t stay in here forever.”

He shook his head emphatically, scrunching down, further wedging himself between the pipes.

“Dean, come on. Stop being childish.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The boy glowered at me, grabbed the cabinet door, and slammed it shut.

I hung my head and sighed again. Rising to my feet, I went back to the phone I left on the table and picked it up. I could hear Bobby freaking out on the other end.

“Kate?? Was that a kid? Named _Dean_? What the hell’s going on over there?”

“I’m here, Bobby...sorry about that. Yeah….the kid...so...remember what Dad always said about witches?

**xxxxx**

**_Two days ago…_ **

We arrived at the outskirts of Topeka, Kansas and pulled into the parking lot of an actually decent motel. Dad’s truck was imposing enough to park anywhere in the lot, and we spotted it right in front of his motel room. He had reserved the room next door for us, and Dean parked the Impala next to the truck.

“Well, this’ll be interesting,” Sam muttered as he got out of the car.

“Give it a rest, Sam.” Dean said, as he wearily pulled himself from behind the wheel. We drove all day to get here by dinnertime, and Dean was tired and cranky. He slowly walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk so we could get our gear. “Dad doesn’t usually ask for help, so when he does - “

“I know, okay? I just… _*sigh*_ nevermind.”

Dean hefted a bag onto his shoulder, turned to Sam, and just stared. Sam sighed again. “I’ll behave, okay?”

Dean made a sound that said he acknowledged Sam’s intent, but didn’t believe in the outcome.

I sat in the car for a minute, staring at Dad’s truck. This was only the second time we’d seen him since the mess with my mom. His departure from Bobby’s after that rescue left me feeling unsure of my place in life, which I knew sounded stupid and didn’t really make sense, but that’s how I felt. It wasn’t like I was expecting emotional stability from John Winchester. I mean, come on, I’m not that naive. But his presence has a calming effect on me, even more than Bobby’s, and I’d been craving it.

“Coming, Squirt?” I turned to see Dean’s tired face staring at me through the window. I nodded and got out of the car. Sam gave me one of his looks.

_You okay?_

I nodded again and flashed a brief smile. He had enough on his mind, and I didn’t want him worrying about my insecurities. I grabbed my bag and another full of weapons, standing back as Dean slammed the trunk closed. 

I kept my mouth shut, but I was in agreement with Sam. This _was_ going to be interesting.

Dad came out of his room before we even got to his door. There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he walked towards us, a motel key dangling from his hand. He tossed it to Dean, who deftly caught it. 

“Heard the baby purring. She sounds good.”

Dean smiled and patted her hood. “She’s always good.”

Dad looked us over. “Kate’ll bunk with me. Take a few minutes to unload and we’ll go grab dinner.” He turned and went back to his room, holding the door open for me. 

So much for welcoming small talk.

I shot Sam a surprised look, and quietly followed Dad. As the door clicked shut behind me, I walked to what I assumed was my bed and put my stuff down. I felt Dad watching me, so I turned and raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what was up.

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his head. “We’re gonna be busy with this coven, but I thought...maybe you needed a little…” He gestured back and forth between us, and shrugged. 

_Bobby. Sly dog._

I let out a breath and nodded. “Thanks…”

Dad nodded back, “Yeah...yeah, no problem.”

We stood in silence, neither of us making eye contact. I was just lamenting about missing my dad, and here we were, together in the same room, and all I could feel was incredibly awkward. 

“So…” He started.

“So…” I continued.

Then more silence.

I was about to unpack my toothbrush, just to have something to do, when there was a knock at the door. Dad jumped, a relieved look on his face, and opened it. Dean and Sam stood in the doorway.

“Ready to eat?” Dean asked, hand on his stomach. “I’m starving…”

Dad grabbed his jacket and looked to me. “Ready?”

“You bet,” I said, walking past him and out the door, thankful for Dean’s appetite.

**xxx**

There was a diner just down the block, so we decided to walk. Even though we were on a hunt, we weren’t actively battling something, arguing over something, or running from something. It was a rare treat. 

Dad and Dean walked together, with Sam and me behind, his arm casually across my shoulders. It felt oddly like ‘old times’, and I felt more at ease than I had in a while. 

“So, this coven has infiltrated a decent portion of this town,” Dad said. "No one knows they’re here, which is for the best, but they’ve secured a few key positions in city government and the public works department. They’re powerful - and they’ve caused a few...accidents...that caught my attention in the last couple weeks.”

We slowed as we neared the diner, and Dad added, “I don’t know which demon is behind their powers, but I have a feeling there may be more than one. They’re just too strong.”

“More than one demon?” Sam asked, reaching up to scratch his head. “They share covens, now?”

Dad shrugged. “I dunno, Sam, I really don’t. But we need to find out.” He opened the door to the restaurant and gestured for us to go inside. Even though Dean was right behind Dad, he waited until Sam and I were safely inside before entering. 

Always the big brother.

Dinner was uneventful, consisting mostly of Dad and Dean talking about random stuff, while Sam and I listened. Sam was behaving, and not asking about The Demon or picking a fight with Dad, so there was unspoken relief at the table.

Dad wanted to check out the local bar and discreetly ask questions. Young women weren’t regulars, so I had to stay behind and do research. I wasn’t upset about not going - this wasn’t a time when I could be helpful, and really, a crappy local bar in a small town was not how I wanted to spend the night.

Dad hesitated, and I knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth. He was about to suggest that Sam stay behind as well - thinking that Sam’s demeanor wasn’t seedy bar material. I straightened in my chair a little, already missing the family calm. Dean sensed it as well, and became very focused on the apple pie in front of him.

Before Dad could say anything, Sam softly spoke, “Why don’t I stay behind and help Kate with the research?" He was shredding his napkin into small pieces, depositing each ripped portion onto his plate. He didn’t meet Dad’s eyes, but did glance at Dean before returning to his napkin massacre.

Dean’s gaze flickered to Dad, who was watching Sam intently, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, “Sounds good,” then he added softly, “Thanks.”

Sam nodded. Out of napkins to mangle, he ran his fingers through his hair and gave me a shaky smile. “Stuck with me, tonight.”

I gave Sam my serious look. “Well, fuck.”

**xxx**

Back at the motel, I sat with Sam on my bed as we looked up information on this town and the people in it. The TV was just getting to the good part about the migrating habits of whales in the Pacific, when Sam stopped typing and cleared his throat.

“So. Bunking with Dad, huh?”

“Hey, you lasted almost half an hour.”

He nudged me with his shoulder. “Shaddup. Seriously, isn’t that weirding you out?”

I paused and thought for a second. “No. Well, yeah? I dunno, Sam.” I sighed. “I’ve missed him since...you know. But I guess, maybe I just wanted him around-around, not… _around_ in the same motel room cut off from you guys.”

Sam huffed a laugh and the clicking keyboard sound resumed. “We haven’t really worked a job with him in like, what, over a year? Think this is a one-time deal?”

I shook my head, “I have no idea.” Months ago, when both boys were sick and laid up at Bobby’s, I wondered about how our rules would change if Dad ever re-entered our hunting lives full time. I had a hard time imagining two motel rooms, bunking with Dad every night, and not taking direction from Dean anymore.

“I don’t think I can go back to taking orders from him, Kate. The way we do things now...it’s the only way I can deal with the fact that I’m hunting and not in school.” Sam spoke quietly, and I felt a slight tremor run through him.

I leaned closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know. Let’s not worry about it, okay? Focus on this hunt, and then we’ll deal with whatever happens, whenever it happens.”

Sam rested his head against mine for a second, then nodded and returned to the research.

Once we gleaned all we could from what was available online, including whether demons shared covens (we actually called Bobby and he didn’t know, either), we closed our laptops and watched TV. We must have fallen asleep, because when the room door opened, we both jumped.

Dad and Dean came inside. Dean raised an eyebrow at us. “Researching, huh?”

Sam sat up and stretched. “Bite us. We did our job. What time is it?”

Dad answered, “Late.” He tossed his keys on the small table and yawned. “We’ll meet up in the morning and swap info.”

That was our cue. Sam and I exchanged quick looks, and he crawled out of bed, yawning, and followed Dean into their room.

Dad stood there for a moment, thinking, then said, “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

“Mmm-kay,” I mumbled, before flopping back on the pillow.

**xxx**

Frantic knocking at the door woke me up. Frantic knocking at the door, coupled with Sam telling us to “ _Open up!_ ”, had me out of the bed a second after Dad. He unlocked the door and Sam rushed inside, carrying something wrapped in a blanket. After securing the room, we stared at Sam, who was shaking like crazy and almost pacing.

“Jesus, Sam, put me the fuck down!”

My eyes widened, Dad’s mouth dropped open, and no one moved.

“Sammy! I’m serious!”

It was a child’s voice - a very young child’s voice - barking orders at Sam as if he were -

“Yeah, okay Dean, sorry!”

Dad blinked and stared at Sam. “Um...what?”

Sam grimaced, and lowered the blanket-wrapped bundle to the door. The blanket fell away to reveal a small boy, maybe four or five, with blond hair and bright green eyes. He looked incredibly pissed off.

Tentatively, I asked, “ _...Dean?_ ”

That tiny head swiveled towards me. “ _Who the fuck else would it be?_ ”

I flinched and gave Dad a panic-stricken look. Dad pulled his eyes off Dean and turned to Sam. “What the hell happened?” he whispered as he sat on his bed, clutching the comforter in his fists.

Still shaking, Sam stammered as he ran his hands through his hair, “I have absolutely no fucking clue. I was sleeping, and then this kid… _Dean_...shook me awake.”

All eyes turned to back to Dean, who was trying to untangle himself from the blanket. He was making progress until he grabbed a piece that he also happened to be standing on, so when he yanked, it pulled his feet from under him, making him fall to the floor with a yelp. We all jumped at the sound - so high pitched and _young_. From the floor came a frustrated sigh, so I went over and helped him up.

He pulled out of my grasp with a huff, and the blanket fell to the floor. Little Dean was wearing one of Big Dean’s t-shirts. It went down to his knees, revealing tiny bare feet whose toes were curling around the ugly brown carpet. He put his hands on his hips and demanded, in this tiny little voice, “We need to fix this, _now!_ ”

Dad just stared. I was waiting for him to give some direction, some...something, _anything_ , but he just sat on the edge of his bed and stared. Sam and I looked at each other, not sure what to do. Dean was looking back and forth between us all, and getting angrier by the second.

“Seriously, _someone do something!_ ” He started flapping his arms against his side in frustration. 

I’m sure he meant for the action to motivate us to rectify the situation. Instead, the sight inspired Sam and me to...laugh.

Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously and the hands were back on his hips. “What’s. So. Funny.”

Sam covered his mouth with a hand. “Oh my God...Kate...he’s…”

“I know...he’s fucking adorable. I can’t stand it.”

We both laughed. We couldn’t help it. Until we took one look at Dad. 

Aaaand...we stopped.

Dad face was filled with anguish. Clearly he wasn’t seeing the humor in this.

But then I remembered, that Dean was around this age when Mary died, and perhaps seeing him like this brought back memories he didn’t want to relive. Or rather, brought up memories he _always_ relived. Another look at Dad confirmed my suspicions.

I think Sam got the memo as well, because his face quickly became serious and businesslike. “Okay...okay we need a plan. Dad?”

Dad jumped, and his expression quickly closed down as he shoved and boxed those memories, and the emotions they stirred, into the furthest corners of his mind. 

He stood and started pacing, keeping distance between himself and his now-young son. He stopped and rubbed his eyes. “Dean…”

Dean raised his head to look at Dad.

“Are you hurt? How do you feel?” 

Well, now I felt stupid - I suppose I should’ve asked that before laughing.

Dean sighed and ran a small hand down his small face. “I’m okay. Have a headache, but otherwise I feel fine. Just...small. _Really, fucking, small._ ”

Dad nodded and looked at Sam and me. “You two didn’t go to the bar, so chances are, the coven doesn’t know about you. Yet. Kate - take Dean back to his room and...take care of him. Sam - fill me in on everything you guys learned tonight while I get ready. I’m hunting them down. Today.”

Dean squealed, arms flapping inside the t-shirt. “Hold on! You can’t hunt them alone. I can still help!”

Dad turned to him, amusement on his lips. “Really?” He reached into a bag and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun. He lightly tossed it to Dean, who barely caught it...only to have the weight knock him over and into the bed, where I caught him and the gun.

“That wasn’t fair,” Dean said petulantly, as I took the gun from his grasp and handed it back to Dad. 

“This whole thing isn’t fair. Go do as I say.”

I frowned at Dad. He was being a little curt with Dean, and I didn’t like it. He was just a little kid, and - I stopped myself right there. He wasn’t a little kid. He’s twenty-eight. Just...a really short, sickeningly cute, twenty-eight year old. 

Wordlessly, Sam handed over his room key.

I sighed. “C’mon Dean, let’s go.”

**xxx**

Back in his room, Dean started shivering, hugging his arms around himself. I tossed the key on the table and sat down on his bed. “C’mere.”

Dean rolled his eyes and started walking towards me, only to stop, eyes widening.

Remembering to be worried before amused, I leaned forward, “What is it? Are you hurt? Headache worse?”

Dean shook his head, eyes full of panic. “I’m...I’m _naked_ under this shirt!”

Okay, that warranted amused before worry. I huffed a laugh, then promptly choked it back when he glared at me. “Right...we can fix this. There’s a laundry room on site. I’ll go see if someone left some clothes behind. If not, we’ll go to the store. Okay?”

Dean’s eyes got even wider, which I didn’t think was possible. “No! I mean...no, you don’t have...I mean...can Sam go?” He finished the question in a quiet voice.

I looked at him, confused. It took me a second to realize that he didn’t want to be left alone. “Um...yeah, sure, if Dad’s done with him…I’ll give him a call. Meanwhile, come sit down – you’re shaking like crazy.” I patted the bed next to me and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Dean didn’t move. He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight from his left to his right foot.

“What now?”

“Kaaaaaaate…” Oh my God, he whines, too. “I said _I’m naked under this shirt._ ”

“Yeah, and…?”

Dean gave me look that could curl wallpaper. “ _Call. Sam._ ”

Sighing, I dialed Sam’s number. We both jumped when Sam’s phone, sitting on the nightstand, rang. I gave Dean an apologetic look. “So…now what?”

Dean’s arms flopped to his side and he hung his head against his chest. Shuffling his feet, he walked over and tried to climb on the bed. After a couple of attempts (he was trying not to let the shirt ride up and reveal…things…), he was able to sit next to me, elbows on knees, head in hands.

I felt so bad for him; I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “We’ll figure this out.”

He just nodded and sighed.

He looked so pathetic. I was about to go next door to get Sam whether Dad was done with him or not, when we heard the ‘family knock’ on the door. I opened it and found Sam standing there, clothes in his hands.

He briefly smiled at me, and went to Dean. “Hey…I raided the laundry room and found some clothes that may fit. I…I’m not sure about the size, but ...” He gave Dean a handful of clothes, which he gratefully grabbed.

“Thanks, Sammy!” He practically squeaked, then ran into the bathroom, only tripping once on the way.

I sat down and rubbed my temples as Sam sat on his bed. “Oh my God, thank you for doing that. I was about to come get you. How’d it go with Dad?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “He’s so pissed right now, he can barely see straight. I told him everything we found out tonight, and all he did was nod and say ‘Thanks, Sammy, go help your sister.’”

I shook my head and dropped my hands onto my lap. “He doesn’t want our help or anything?” 

Sam shook his head, no.

I stared at Sam incredulously. “He’s gonna take down the coven by himself.” 

Sam nodded his head, yes.

I flopped back against the bed and sighed. “This is seven shades of fucked up.”

“Yeah, it is. He told me to make sure Dean was okay, and he’d be in touch later.”

I was about to respond colorfully, when the bathroom door opened. I sat up to see how the clothes fit. Dean came out, a surly expression still on his face, but now joined by a quiet resignation. He replaced the t-shirt with a pair of too-big sweat pants and a sweatshirt, but at least he had pants on.

“Thanks, Sam, this…this helped.” His tone softened a bit.

Dean shuffled over to his bed and climbed up next to me. “So. What’s the plan?” He asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Sam looked from Dean to me and back again before answering, “Well, Dad’s hell-bent on taking the coven down alone. His orders were to keep an eye on you until he contacts us.”

Dean’s jaw dropped open. “That’s it? That’s the plan?”

Sam gave an apologetic half-smile and shrugged one shoulder. “That’s his plan.”

Dean closed his eyes and ran his hand down his face. “I’m so screwed.”

I put my hand on Dean’s head. “Look…we can’t do anything tonight. Let’s get some sleep. In the morning we’ll get better clothes and some shoes, and maybe we’ll have more information to work with, okay?”

Dean sighed and nodded grudgingly. He crawled across the bed and wriggled his way under the covers. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes again. “I don’t think I can sleep,” he pouted.

I turned back to Sam, who was also rubbing his eyes and yawning. It’s like I had two kids in here. “Let’s put the TV on, and see if that helps.”

I snagged the remote from the TV stand and fiddled with it. I looked at my brothers. “So…who should I share with?” I figured it was going to be Dean, but I didn’t want to force it. He’d been through enough, and if he wanted some space, I –

“Here is fine,” Dean said, a little too quickly. He blushed a bright red and scooted further under the blankets.

Sam hid a smile and crawled under his own covers, shutting off the light next to his bed. 

It didn’t take long for Sam to fall asleep. Some late late late talk show was on, and the interviews were boring. As soon as we heard soft snoring from Sam’s bed, Dean let out a sigh and buried his face in his hands.

“Hey…” I said, lamely. I mean, what else was there to say? It’s not so bad? We’ll fix this? It’ll be okay? I couldn’t say those things because there was no truth behind them. We both knew that.

So, I did what I always do.

I lifted my arm, and Dean burrowed under it, resting his head against me and sighing again. I gently ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his back. “Still have a headache?”

He nodded.

“We’ll get something for it tomorrow while we’re out. You can’t take the meds we have.”

Another nod, then a yawn.

I shifted a little so we were more comfortable. “Get some sleep,” I ordered.

“ ‘Kay…” The word was muffled against my shirt.

I’ve held Dean plenty of times when he was hurt or feeling crappy. That wasn’t anything new. But Little Dean pulled at my heart. The instinct to protect him was stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced. 

He tucked his hands around me and nestled his face against my neck. Maybe this curse wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

**xxx**

The next morning…nothing changed. Dean was still four on the outside, adult grumpy on the inside, and we were still freaked out by the whole thing. Sam checked his phone for the zillionth time, and surprise, still no word from Dad.

“Let’s go to the store and get what we need for Dean,” he suggested while Dean was in the bathroom. “Speaking of which…he seem okay to you?”

I looked up at him and said dryly, “You mean besides the fact that he’s a bitchy four-year-old.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

I sighed. “I think he still has that headache. He slept okay, at least I think he did. He moved around a lot, but mostly stayed glued to my side.”

Sam smirked, “Lucky you.”

The bathroom door opened, and out came Dean, sweatshirt flopping past his fingers. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept.

Sam said, “We should go to the store and get you some better clothes and stuff. Ready to go?”

Dean nodded and looked around the room. “Yeah, let’s just go.”

We buckled Dean in the back seat (that was a whole argument in itself) and drove to the store – stopping at a drive-thru for breakfast and coffee on the way. Dean tried really hard to cajole coffee out of us, but orange juice was what he got. I won’t repeat what he said to that.

Sam had to carry Dean into the store – I mean, he had no shoes. Dean was not happy about that, but one look at the crap in the parking lot convinced him that he was better off being carried. 

Once inside, I grabbed a cart and offered Dean a chance to ride in it. He readily accepted and began barking orders as we made our way through the store.

“Candy! I want some, and if you won’t let me have coffee, how about some pop? I can have pop, right? Not those pants – that blue makes me wanna puke. Those shoes suck, can I try those instead?”

Sam muttered in my ear, “Except for the voice, he sounds exactly the same.” I laughed and Dean glared at us.

“What?”

I shook my head, managing a straight face. “Nothing. Let’s try those other shoes, your majesty.”

Once we had clothes and shoes taken care of, Dean fell silent; quietly riding in the cart as Sam and I randomly added other items to the growing pile. As we neared the pharmacy section, I noticed Dean’s head listing to the side and almost laughed as it smacked against the cart’s hard plastic frame. He sat up quickly, rubbing his head, his face pinched with pain.

He gazed up at me and furrowed his brow, wordlessly telling me his head was still hurting on the inside, and now it hurt on the outside, too. His bottom lip was starting to stick out, and he looked about to cry. Without really thinking, I held out my hands. Dean blinked once, and then raised his arms, letting me pick him up.

He smoothly slid onto my hip, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. He laid his head against me and sighed. 

“Headache bad?” I asked softly.

Nod.

I brushed his hair out of his face, and frowned as I felt warmth on his forehead. Sam was busy gathering injury related supplies for the first aid kit. I moved to stand next to him and he looked up, confused at first, and then concerned as he examined Dean more closely.

“I’m gonna go look at the children’s medicines,” I said, gently shifting the bundle in my arms.

Sam lay a hand on the back of Dean’s head and nodded, “Yeah, okay. I’m almost done. Then we can get him outta here.”

Dean didn’t even respond.

I went to the next aisle and started scanning the shelves. The sheer assortment of bottles and promises were staggering. Dean coughed, and the breath from it tickled my neck. He still wasn’t saying anything, which worried me even more. I pulled him closer and started reading more quickly.

An older man in a white coat walked over, and gestured to the rows of medicine. “Lots to choose from, huh?”

I glanced at him, a little wary of his sudden, convenient presence. “Um, yeah…it’s…it’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded at Dean, “Maybe I can help. What are his symptoms?”

Dean’s grip tightened on me, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was – could we trust this guy?

Not wanting to look suspicious, I cleared my throat. “Um, well, headache, fever…” Dean coughed again. I huffed a smile. “Cough, too, apparently.”

The man chuckled and reached for a box. “This is probably your best bet - fever reducer, cough suppressant, little something for the headache, too. Just need to choose a flavor.”

“Cherry…,” a tiny voice croaked into my neck.

The man laughed a little louder, and I smiled. “Cherry it is.” He handed me a box, and nodded his head as I thanked him. I almost felt embarrassed at being so distrustful, but we were in a town infiltrated by witches that cursed my brother. A little distrust was warranted, no matter how nice someone looked.

Sam and our cart rolled up, and he was frowning at the pharmacist’s retreating back. “What was that about?”

“Nothing – he was just helping us choose some medicine.” I gave Sam the box and shifted Dean again. Sam looked it over, looked at the man again, and rifled through the shelves for the same medicine, just a different box. Then he chose a different brand that offered the same results (still in cherry). Grimacing, he tossed them into the cart, along with a new thermometer.

I guess I wasn’t the only one with trust issues.

**xxx**

Dean got a dose of medicine in the car, and slept the whole way back to the motel. Sam and I exchanged worried looks, but said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. We didn’t know if Dean was feeling sick from the curse or just sick in general.

At the motel, Dean napped the rest of the morning; his body apparently needing the rest. Sam and I spent the time pacing, worrying, checking our phones, and looking up information on de-aging curses. We weren’t all that focused - the worrying and pacing took most of our effort.

Finally, early afternoon, we heard from Dad. He had some leads and wanted to know how Dean was doing. We filled him in, and then hung up. 

That was it – he was just checking in.

I was kind of hoping Dad’s parental instincts would click into gear, and he’d move past the awkwardness of the situation, but that was not the case. He was definitely leaving the child-rearing to Sam and me. 

We’d all taken care of each other at different times and for different reasons, but this was something else entirely.

_Dean_ raised _us_. The role reversal was bizarre, to say the least.

The medicine kicked in, and Dean was up and running after the few hours’ rest. He was back to demanding to help, wanting a beer, insisting on helping Dad interview people (like that was a winner suggestion), even cleaning the weapons. Every suggestion was shot down by either Sam or I, and the more Dean was refused, the grumpier he got.

The next day, Dad called again, asking Sam to help scout a couple locations he thought were coven hot spots. Dean once again insisted on helping, and once again, was told no. 

We were all tired of each other, and Dean’s constant whining and badgering to do grown-up things was now more irritating than amusing. 

Before Sam even left with Dad, Dean hid himself in the cabinet under the sink, in a huff.

**xxxxx**

**_Present Day_ **

It took a while to explain it all to Bobby on the phone because he kept laughing at every new piece of information I shared. I don’t blame him - it really was funny. At first. However, Bobby hasn’t been stuck in one room for two days with a cranky four-year-old, not knowing how long this curse would last. It was pushing even my patience.

Obviously, this was worse for Dean, not only emotionally, but physically as well. He was wired, but exhausted, and fighting this situation with every breath. The medicine he took seemed to help with his headache and fever. But I had no idea how, ultimately, adult-sized stress would affect a kid-sized body, and I was desperate to find some way of settling him down. 

Once Bobby stopped laughing, he said he’d do some research of his own, and see if he could come up with anything to help. After hanging up, I returned to the motel room to find Dean sitting on the bed, scowling. I put the phone on the table and looked at him questioningly. 

Dean glanced my way and muttered, “Pipes were leaking.” Like he needed that added insult. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed as I sat next to him.

“I’m sorry…”

He shrugged and turned his back to me.

“...Hungry?”

He started to shake his head no, but his stomach chose that moment to betray him. He sighed again.

“Come on...let’s go get something to eat. They won’t be back for a bit so…no pressure there. Okay? Just us.” I put my hand on his shoulder, giving it a little shake. His shoulders sagged and he nodded silently, sliding off the bed and shrugging into the coat we got him.

After shoving the room key and my phone in my jacket pocket, we left. We walked down the street, hand in hand, to the diner. It was little things like the hand holding that set off my mental alarms - that was distinctly a little-kid thing to do, and he was doing it without being on his deathbed.

Dean walked slowly. 

“What’s going on in there?” I asked, squeezing his hand.

He glanced up at me briefly before returning his gaze to the ground. “Nothing.”

I nodded and kept walking. I knew “talking it out” wasn’t going to happen, so I respected that. But I wanted him to know I was there all the same.

We took a booth, and sat opposite each other. The waitress gave Dean a coloring book menu, some crayons and a brilliant smile, which he pointedly ignored, instead preferring to scowl at the salt and pepper shakers.

She looked at me questioningly, and I was about to give some lame excuse about how he wasn’t feeling well when we heard a tiny sneeze. I froze with my mouth open and looked at Dean, who was scrambling to pull a napkin from the dispenser on the table. I reached over and grabbed one just in time for another sneeze to pull him forward. 

“Ohhh...someone doesn’t feel good! I’ll bring you a nice glass of orange juice, okay?” She smiled again and bustled away, feeling better that this little boy hadn’t rejected her attempts to be friendly, he was just sick.

I leaned across the table and tried to feel his forehead. “You okay? Fever back?”

Dean ducked, avoiding my reach and wiped his nose. “I’m fine. Just...order something.”

I retracted my hand and sighed. The sweet kid I held in the store was definitely gone. This will be a long night. “Fine. How about something simple, like, grilled cheese, hmm?” I had a feeling Dean’s stomach wasn’t as settled as he thought.

I waved the waitress back over and ordered our food as she set down a glass of orange juice for Dean...in a cartoon-covered plastic cup, complete with a straw and lid. Before I could say anything, she patted him on the head and walked off.

Dean ran a hand down his face, shrugged, and shoved the used napkins in his pocket. “When are they coming back?”

I shook my head. “Not sure. Soon?” I pulled out my phone and checked. “Shit...I missed a message from Sam…”

“What’s it say?” Dean craned his neck over the table trying to see. Realizing that, once again, he couldn’t get to something he wanted, he growled and climbed out of the booth, only to crawl up next to me on my side.

Unconsciously, I scooted over while opening the message from Sam. Dean’s little hands covered mine, angling the phone so he could read the screen with me.

“Hm...looks like they’re almost done. I’ll tell Sam to meet us here. Dad’s staying behind for more snooping around.”

Dean’s hands dropped off mine and thudded against the table. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing...I just thought...nevermind.” He hunched down in the booth and folded his arms. 

“...It was supposed to be just us, right?” I asked gently, hesitantly placing a hand around his shoulders.

Dean said nothing, but after a minute, he scooted closer and leaned his head against me, sighing into my jacket.

“Dean...I’m sorry...I - “

“Food’s ready!!! Eat up!” The waitress put down two plates with sandwiches and fries. “Aww...wanted to sit by your mommy? That’s so adorable!” She grinned and left.

I made a fist with one hand, and gritted my teeth. I knew she was trying to be nice, and yes, Dean was fucking adorable, but it’s not what he wanted or needed to hear. I chanced a look at his face, which was now clouded over.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he grated. He slid off the booth and marched to the restrooms on the far side of the restaurant. I leaned back and let out a breath.

Did I mention this was going to be a long night?

“Hey…”

I looked up as Sam slid into the booth opposite me. I blinked at him. “How’d you get here so fast? I just told you we were here…”

“Yeah, and I sent you that message a while ago. I was pulling into the motel when you finally responded. Where’s the big boy?”

“He’s in the bathroom and he’s in a really, really foul mood. This curse is affecting him more than we think.”

Sam frowned and stole a french fry off my plate. “What do you mean?”

I sighed. “First off, the stress is wearing him down. I know it’s only been a couple days, but we’re talking about adult stress, here, and I don’t think his little body is handling it well. I think the whole de-aging thing is messing with him physically.”

Sam wiped his hands on a napkin, thinking on what I said. “How is he otherwise?”

I looked over Sam’s shoulder to make sure Dean wasn’t on his way back. I lowered my voice. “Remember how he was back at the store? All…cuddly and stuff when he didn’t feel good?” Sam nodded and ate another fry. “Well, no fever now, right? But sometimes, I swear, he slips into being an actual little kid. I don’t know if he’s just...not fighting it or if there’s something else going on.”

“Like...what?” _Another_ damn fry. I slid my plate to him since he kept eating off it. 

“Like...he held my hand on the way here.”

Sam looked up at me in surprise, my sandwich sticking out of his mouth.

“Yeah. Exactly. Again, I don’t know if he just wanted to feel better or what, but that was a real little kid thing to do and...yeah. Hold on - he’s coming back.”

Dean saw Sam sitting at the table, and his shoulders tensed as he got closer. He barely acknowledged Sam’s presence as he slid into the booth next to me, tucking close.

I gave Sam a look. _See what I mean?_

Sam bit his lower lip. “Hey Dean, how’re you doing?”

Dean glanced up at me before looking at him, and shrugging. 

Sam took a deep breath and said, “Hey...Dad and I got some leads today.”

Dean’s eyes lit up a little. “Really?”

Sam smiled. “Really. Look, I’m sorry - I haven’t exactly been...supportive…”

Dean sighed and waved at him dismissively. “It’s okay, Sammy. I woulda done the same to you. I’ve been kind of an asshole about all this, too.”

Sam and Dean quietly ate their dinners, forcing me to order another sandwich for myself.

Dean only made it through half of his food, but drank all his juice. 

The waitress walked by, and noted Sam’s arrival. “Your Daddy’s here, now!” Sam looked at me in alarm, and I choked back a laugh. 

Dean ignored her and played with the remaining fries on his plate. Sam had finished off the other half of his sandwich and most of my fries.

As we counted out money for the bill, Sam’s phone buzzed. He looked at it, and sat up straight, his eyes wide.

“What?” Dean squeaked.

“It’s Dad...Bobby helped him figure out a spell that could reverse the curse.” Sam grimaced at the unintentional rhyme. “We have to meet him at the forest preserve in thirty minutes.”

“Fuck, yes! Let’s go so I can kill some fucking bitches!” Dean hopped out of the booth and skipped towards the door, stopping long enough to stare at us. “Come on!” He stomped his feet.

Without looking around, Sam and I knew most of the restaurant was staring at us. Blushing a deep red, Sam left money on the table and practically ran to the door, scooping Dean up on the way out. I stammered a thank you to the waitress and followed.

**xxxxx**

The car ride to the park held a lot less tension than yesterday. Dean was singing, tapping out beats to a Metallica song against the door handle, as Sam sped to the meeting spot. I shoved Big Dean clothes in a bag before leaving, so Big Dean didn’t run around naked.

At the preserve, we met Dad on the side of the road. He didn’t meet Dean’s gaze at all, instead focusing on Sam or me while filling us in on his discoveries as we entered the forest.

“Okay, from what I could gather, this coven is pretty tight. By even being here, we pissed them off, so they closed ranks and lashed out. They figured they’d attack me where it would hurt - so they went for you, Dean. I don’t know if they chose you because you’re my first born or because you were the most visible child of mine. Either way, they should’ve known that going after my kid was a mistake.”

Dean nodded solemnly as we walked, drawing from the strength of Dad’s words. He struggled to keep up, partly because of the uneven ground, partly because his legs were just too short. He held my hand to help steady his balance.

“This spell should reverse the effects. Once that happens, we can kill the coven and free this town.” He paused and turned to face us. We were all breathing heavy, and could see our breath appearing in small clouds in front of our faces.

Sam asked the question we all had on our lips, “What if this doesn’t work?”

Dad shook his head. “Let’s not go there. It’ll work. Keep moving - we’re almost there.”

We arrived at an empty spot between a stand of trees. The air was still, and it was way too quiet. I exchanged a look with Sam.

_I don’t like this…_

_Me either…_

Dean stood next to me, shivering in his coat. He ran his hand under his nose and wiped it on his jacket. 

Dad set up for the spell, lit a fire, and tossed everything in, chanting as he went. We were all on edge, watching the woods around us, alert for any signs of trouble. The fire flared, and then died to a low blaze. It was as if the forest held its breath with us, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, we heard a dog howl, then another. The sounds were getting closer, and mixed in with the baying was snarling and barking of animals that did not seem friendly.

Dean looked at Dad in a panic as Dad whipped around, trying to determine where they were coming from. One look at Sam made his decision.

Dad picked up Dean and thrust him in my arms. “Something’s wrong. Take Dean and run. Both of you. NOW! Don’t look back, and don’t stop. I’ll contact you when I can. Go!”

I staggered back from the weight of a child being pushed at me. Why are we running? Why is he making us leave? I swallowed the questions and met Sam’s frantic eyes.

“Go!” Dad yelled, as he pulled out his gun.

I clutched Dean to my chest and ran, with Sam right behind me. I had no idea where I was going, I just knew I was moving away from the howling...away from Dad. Dean instinctively wrapped his legs and arms around me, squeezing tight. He buried his face in my neck and I could feel his erratic breathing match mine.

I couldn’t move as fast as I wanted - I didn’t want to be reckless and fall. Sam kept a steadying hand on my back as we raced past trees and ducked under branches. However, after the second stumble, Sam grabbed my arm.

“Hold on...give him to me.” We stopped, and I handed Dean over. As he wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, our eyes met, and I almost cried out. Dean’s eyes were completely, and utterly, filled with panic. The reality of the situation was not lost on either of us - he was _completely_ defenseless, and his survival was solely in our hands. 

I had to calm him down - regardless of whether I felt it or not. I could see his heartbeat pulsing on his neck, and he was breathing through his mouth in quick, ragged gasps. 

“Hold on Sam…” Sam gave me a questioning look before scanning the area for monsters. I cupped Dean’s cheek in my hand and gently said, “Dean...it’s okay...We’ve got you, okay?” I took my gun out of my waistband and primed it. I slipped it into my coat pocket, and smiled. “Do you trust us?”

His eyes remained locked on mine as he swallowed a few times. He leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder and nodded. He managed a half smile in return. “Always...”

I ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy.”

Sam shifted Dean’s weight and tightened his hold. I looked up at him, silently asking which way we should go. 

Sam turned this way and that, trying to get his bearings. He gestured with his head. “This way…”

I nodded and followed him.

We ran for a few more minutes until we heard a growling noise nearby, forcing us to stop. Dean gasped and froze, clinging to Sam’s shirt. I put my finger to my lips, and looked around. 

Sam held Dean tighter. I pushed them towards a large tree, and watched Sam hunker down, with Dean in his arms, gun ready. Satisfied that they were marginally safe, I took out my gun and listened carefully. I heard rustling to my left, and cautiously moved in that direction. I didn’t even know what I was hunting - I just knew that it was here to kill my brother, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

My own heart continued to race. I was sweating and choking back anxiety. A branch snapped to my right, and I spun just in time to face something huge lunging towards me. I fired a few shots before being knocked to the ground. A sharp pain lanced my side. I managed to push against the creature now on top of me, raising it slightly and fired three more shots into its abdomen.

With a final whine, it slumped against me, pinning my body to the ground. 

“Kate!” Sam’s panic stricken voice softly called, and I felt him kneeling next to me, Dean on my other side. “Shit...hold on…” Sam grunted, and the weight of the animal was off me. I could breathe a little easier, but the pain was intense.

I opened my eyes to see Dean’s little face staring anxiously at me, his hands on my face. “C’mon Katie...stay awake.”

I rolled my eyes and struggled to sit. I kept one hand pressed to my side. My eyes met Sam’s.

Sam considered me for a minute, then pulled me to my feet. “We gotta keep moving. Can you walk?” I nodded. “Good. C’mere, Dean…” Dean ran to Sam. Sam lifted him once again, and we set off.

_**xxxxx**_

I don’t how long it took us to find the road, but when we did, I almost cried with relief. Except...it wasn’t the same patch of road we parked on. There were a few cars in a makeshift graveled parking area that I don’t remember seeing when we first arrived. I stumbled to the nearest car, and leaned heavily against it. 

My side was bleeding and it hurt bad enough to almost drown out all thinking. Sam set Dean down next to me and quickly checked each car. He chose a nice looking sedan with a bench front seat, picked the lock and hissed, “Come on!” I made my way to the car, making Dean sit between us in the front. Sam hotwired it and we drove off.

“Which way?” I asked, leaning my head against the window and pressing harder against my side.

Sam tersely replied, “Right now, I don’t care. I just want some distance between us and that park before I stop and check your side.”

I snuck a glance at Dean. He was sitting up straight, eyes wide, breathing in short gasps. He was looking out every window for signs of followers. Eventually, his eyes fell on mine, and I gave him a half-smile. “You okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re barely conscious and you’re asking if _I’m_ okay?” Sam shot him a look as Dean twisted in his seat to get a better look at me. Carefully, Dean opened my jacket and I heard a sharp intake of breath as he saw the scratch.

I say “scratch”, because technically, I was wounded with the creature’s claws. However, the word “scratch” implies a very shallow flesh wound with perhaps a little blood. That was not the case in this situation.

I took a deep breath and carefully moved my hand off the wound. I could feel blood escaping between my fingers, as well as my skin shifting between the claw marks. “Oh… _oh shit…_ ” Dean whispered.

“What?” Sam kept looking between the road and me. “What is it, Dean? How bad?”

I swallowed, and croaked, “It’s not that bad, Sam.” 

Dean snorted.

Sam’s grip on the wheel tightened and his lips pursed together. 

Dean bent and looked more closely. “The gashes are kinda deep, and there’s four of them. Sammy, we gotta stop the bleeding.” He looked up at me, and I could see the panic from before. 

I remembered my oath to calm him down. “It’s bad, Dean, but I’m not gonna die from it.” I thought for a second, “I will need a new shirt, though…”

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean huffed a half-laugh, half-sob. I closed my eyes, thinking I’ll just rest a second. Dean’s hand was on my cheek. “Kate? Katie?”

“Hmmm…?” That was all I could say. Words were failing me a little, and sleeping was sounding much more attractive by the second.

_*Slap*_

I opened my eyes. “What the _fuck…_ ”

Green eyes filled with guilt stared at me. “I’m sorry - but you gotta stay awake, okay?”

Awake. Right. Got it. _Awake._

I nodded and licked my lips.

Sam swallowed and started to give orders. “Dean - go look in the backseat, okay? See if you can find anything we can use until I can find us a place to stop.”

Dean nodded and crawled over the seat. I followed his movement with my eyes as far as I could without turning my head. Once he was fully in the backseat and out of sight, I decided to watch Sam.

“Hey…” I started, not know where to go from there.

“Hey, yourself. You’ll be okay, alright? Just...hang in there. Gimme a little time to make sure we’re safe. Can you do that?”

I licked my lips again. I was thirsty. Maybe Dean would find water. “Yeah, okay. No problem.” I flashed a quick smile and tried to sit up a little straighter.

Sam reached over and ran his thumb along my cheek. _That’s my girl._

I closed my eyes for a second then peeled them open. 

Sam glanced in the rear view mirror. “Dean? Find anything, buddy?” I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile at the impromptu nickname.

“Not much...a sweatshirt and a crumpled box of Kleenex. Buuuut...I found a latch that folds down the back seat for access to the trunk. I can get in there and look around without us stopping.”

Sam grinned. “Perfect! Good job! Give Kate the sweatshirt then try to get into the trunk, okay?”

Dean’s little head popped up over the front seat. He narrowed his eyes at Sam and grated, “I only _look_ four, Sam, I’m not _actually_ four.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Sam looked sheepish. “Oh...right...sorry...I, uh, yeah.”

Dean rolled his eyes and disappeared again, muttering something about stupid curses and killing witches.

I let out a weak laugh, and Sam dragged his hand across his face. I examined the sweatshirt - it was huge. I was trying not to get blood on it. 

“Hey…don’t get blood on it.” I rolled my eyes. “You can wear it once I patch you up. It’ll hide all the blood.”

I nodded and wiped my hands on my jeans. Using a not-so-bloody-anymore hand, I balled up the shirt, and used it as a pillow.

The next few minutes were quiet, except for the occasional swearing and grunting from Dean. It was getting harder to focus. I think Sam figured that out because he started talking and didn’t stop.

“...So I was hoping to get our bearings from the stars, but there are some clouds up there, and I can’t get a good read on them. We should pass a road sign soon, though, with more information than the speed limit.”

I nodded, then realized Sam can’t hear me nodding, so I added what I assume was an affirmative sounding noise. He kept looking at me while babbling, reminding me every once in a while to stay awake.

Finally, Dean reappeared, bearing a gift. An opened bottle of water was in front of me _thank God._ “Here...Katie - drink some of this.”

I took it from Dean with a shaky hand, and managed to get some of it down my throat. “Whoa...slow down, Kate!” Tiny hands gripped the bottle around mine, and slowed the rate of water flow into my mouth. I could feel water dripping down my chin, and I coughed. “Shit...classy fucker all the way, that’s you.” I heard the amusement in his voice as we both remembered how I said those same words to him months ago.

“Mmmmm...learned from watching you.” I sputtered again, and wiped my mouth as Dean took the bottle back.

I was rewarded with a tiny grin. “Okay, I found a piss-poor first aid kit, but it does have a couple things in it. There’s also duct tape, an old blanket, a road atlas from 1998, some random bottles of water and jumper cables. That’s it.” Dean paused to cough into his sleeve. When he raised his head, I noticed that he was starting to lose steam.

Sam shifted in his seat. “Not bad...we can get Kate wrapped up and maybe take a look at the atlas...try to figure out where we are.” A grove of trees were barely visible up ahead. “I’m going to pull over by those trees. Dean - keep a lookout, okay?”

Dean nodded and coughed again.

Sam slowed down, and pulled off the road, using the trees as cover. He angled the car so it would be easy to pull right back onto the road at the first sign of trouble, but we were fairly well hidden, too. He put the car in park, killed the lights, but left the engine running.

He turned to me and our gazes locked for a second.

_Ready?_

_No, but I have no choice._

Sam nodded and gently pried my fingers off the wound. I ground my teeth together and tried to breathe carefully through my nose. Sam took a shaky breath. He sat up and turned to Dean while pulling out his pocket knife. “Dean, hand me the first aid kit, will ya?” Wordlessly, Dean passed him a small white plastic box with a red cross on the top. “Thanks…”

Sam rummaged inside and pulled out a few supplies. “There isn’t enough here to take care of this properly, but we can clean it and mostly cover it up.” 

Working quickly, Sam ripped the blanket, with the help of his knife, using one large piece as a towel to cover the seat. He pulled out several packets of antiseptic wipes and tried to clean the wound as much as possible. I ended up taking a mouthful of the sweatshirt to keep from crying out. I couldn’t do anything about the tears rolling down my face. 

Using a small roll of medical tape, Sam made a crude quilt of square gauze pieces. After swabbing my side with anti-bacterial cream, he managed to blanket the entire wound with gauze. He ran out before he could completely tape it down. Improvising, he ripped the blanket again into large strips, wrapping them around my midsection. With Dean’s help, he used the duct tape to secure the covering in place.

Finally finished, he folded up the towel-blanket, encasing the discarded wrappers and blood, and had Dean shove it in the trunk. We both washed our hands out of our windows using bottles of water, and he helped me slip the sweatshirt over my head so it covered the makeshift bandage.

Sam looked me over one final time, nodding to himself. “You’re a proper Penn State fan, now.”

_Hooray…_

Dean was quiet throughout the patch-up, which surprised me. I turned to look at him. He was sitting against the back seat door, looking very small and very scared. His jacket was pulled tight around him, and he was shivering uncontrollably. While Sam was scanning the atlas, I gestured for Dean to climb back up front. 

He hesitated only a second, before clamoring over the front seat and settling next to me. He turned his head and watched me.

_I don’t wanna hurt you._

_You won’t - c’mere…_

I raised an arm and he slid carefully into my side, resting his head against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, and rubbed circles in his back as best as I could, given that my own adrenaline rush was past.

Sam’s eyes flickered to us. He took in our condition, and the sight seemed to bolster his resolve to get us somewhere safe. “Okay, I think I pinpointed where we are. If I’m right, in another thirty miles or so, we’ll hit a small town. Maybe there’ll be a gas station or something so I can get better directions.”

“Directions to where, Sam?” I asked.

Sam sighed and closed the atlas. “Yeah, I’m still working on that part. We’re not far from Bobby’s. Given that we don’t know what Dad’s doing, and we can’t call him, that’s really the best place to go. I don’t know how far this coven reaches, or how long they’ll chase us - if they’re even chasing us. So if we’re running, we might as well head to Sioux Falls. I’ll call Bobby in a bit and see what he says. I’m...yeah.”

He blinked a few times, and then rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t used to being the one in charge. It’s not that he couldn’t do it; it’s just that Dean’s the natural leader, and Dean always leads. 

Besides, this wasn’t a routine job. 

_We_ were being hunted. 

Our lives depended on his decisions, and right now, he keenly felt that weight.

I pulled Dean closer and offered some confidence. “The plan is good, Sam. Let’s go.” 

“Yeah...okay.” I got another worried look before he put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.

**xxxxx**

Dean’s shivering slowed somewhat, but not entirely. I wasn’t sure if it was shock or if he was just cold. Probably an awesome combination of both.

Roughly thirty miles later, as Sam guessed, we came upon a small town. We approached a twenty-four hour gas station with its lights on. Sam cautiously pulled up to a pump and killed the engine. 

“I’m gonna fill up – I don’t know what’ll happen between here and Bobby’s so I’d rather be on the safe side.” He glanced out the window, scanning the area. “Let’s make this quick.” He got out and started to fill the tank. 

I looked down at Dean and cleared my throat. “Hey...probably should go to the bathroom while we’re stopped.”

Dean looked up at me, managing a slightly annoyed expression. “If I had to go, I’d have said something.”

I blinked and said, “I meant me.”

“Ohhh,” was all I got.

I ruffled his hair and opened the door. Leaning my head back, I took a few deep breaths, wondering how I was going to get inside. Then Sam was there, guiding me out and to my feet. I leaned on him for support, willing the dizziness to go away. His hand was on the back of my head, and he whispered in my ear, “Can you make it?” I’m assuming he meant the bathroom, because I wasn’t up to contemplating anything more involved. Nodding, I gripped the door and pushed myself towards the building. 

Once inside, I made my way to the little girls’ room. The clerk behind the counter smiled politely at me, and I returned what I hoped was an innocent, sweet smile, which was really hard considering the pain I was in. Once inside, I slumped against the door and groaned. My side hurt like a bitch, and the stress was making it worse.

I washed my hands with soap, glad to be done with the stickiness from the blood. I did my business, washed my hands again, and was about to step outside when I heard yelling, and gunshots.

I pulled my weapon from my pocket and carefully opened the door. In the middle of the gas station mart stood the clerk, grasping both of Dean’s wrists in one hand, while Dean struggled in vain. Sam was leaning against a candy display stand, grasping his shoulder, face pinched in pain.

“Did you really think we weren’t out here looking for you?”

The witch had a sneer on her lips and a fire in her eyes that wasn’t there when I first came in.

“Let me go! Sam! Sammy!” Dean was practically screaming, flailing as hard as he could in an effort to get free. Sam was slipping to the ground, eyes unfocused. He was trying to find his gun, which was on the floor several feet away.

The witch glared at Dean, and lifted him off the floor, his feet now kicking air. “And _you_ ,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “You’re helping your father learn what it means to be vulnerable. How do you like the lesson so far, hmm?” She gave Dean a little shake, and laughed when he cried out.

Dean looked past her to me. Giving no indication that he saw me, he went all “limp noodles” in her arms, causing her to gasp in surprise at the sudden unresisting weight in her hand. It was enough of a distraction. I took aim, and shot her in the head. 

Twice. 

I wasn’t happy.

The witch fell to the floor, and took Dean with her. He landed hard, and scrambled to Sam who was just getting to his feet.  
]  
I retrieved Sam’s gun and made my way to his side. He’d been shot twice in the shoulder and had a nasty bruise forming on his jaw, but otherwise seemed okay.

“Sam…Sammy? You okay?” Dean pleaded. Sam struggled to his feet, and now that he was standing, Dean couldn’t reach the wound or check for other injuries. 

I swept the station with my eyes, looking for more of those fucking witches. Seeing none, I put my hand on Sam’s arm. “We have to get out of here. I’ll drive, you sit tight this time, okay?” 

Sam shook his head. “No…no, I’m okay, she just…took me by surprise. I’m okay, really. One bullet went right through…” He turned his shoulder a little so I could take a quick look at the exit wound. Everything looked okay, considering they were bullet wounds. A little digging, a few stitches, and Sam would be fine. 

It was the other brother I was worried about.

I nodded, tucked my gun in my waistband, and carefully kneeled down to take Dean by the shoulders. “Hey…you okay? Did she hurt you? Lemme see…” I started to turn him around, examining for any wounds, although I was pretty sure his wounds weren’t the kind I could bandage. 

Dean shook his head violently from side to side. His eyes were wide and once again filled with terror. “No…Sammy first. Take care of him. I – I’m fine.” Probably against his will, Dean’s eyes filled with tears as he tracked Sam’s movements.

“I’m okay, Dean. I’m more worried about you right now. Let Kate check you over, then take what we need.” Sam awkwardly started moving slowly around the store, grabbing items and thrusting them in his jacket pocket. He paused to look at Dean, to emphasize his point, and then resumed pilfering the store. This wasn’t the time to have a conscience – we needed supplies and we needed them now.

I cupped Dean’s chinn my hand. “Dean,” I said, in a stronger voice. He turned back to me, and I noticed his breathing had become erratic. “Dean…it’s okay. We’re all okay. Let’s grab what we need and get out of here.” I spoke a little softer, trying for a soothing tone despite the panic I myself was experiencing.

Dean just nodded and wiped at his eyes. He moved after Sam, helping grab various food and beverage items off the shelves. I found the gas station first-aid merchandise, and pocketed pain killers, anti-biotic cream, and some bandages.

Sam gestured to the car and took his gun from me (I forgot I was even holding it). “Get in the car. I’m gonna do a quick check for security cameras.”

I nodded and headed for the door, Dean slowly following behind. We climbed in the car, pooling our loot on the back seat, except for some of the pain meds, bandages, and water bottles.

Dean didn’t say a word, but his movements spoke volumes. He was shivering, making it difficult for him to open the bottle of water in his lap. His eyes kept darting all over the place – trying to pinpoint where the next danger would be. I gently took the bottle from his grasp and opened it for him. He looked up at me and attempted a smile of thanks, but his face crumpled and he broke eye contact almost immediately.

I was about to offer some words of comfort, which I knew would sound stupid but seemed important to offer anyway, when Sam got in the car. He looked us over, started the engine, and peeled back onto the road.

**_xxxxx_ **

While Sam drove, I bandaged his shoulder as best as I could. “You need stitches, and we still need to get that bullet out, but this’ll have to do for now.”

Sam breathed a laugh as he glanced down at his shoulder. “Didn’t I just say that to you a little while ago?”

“Ha. Yeah, yeah you did.” I shifted in my seat so Dean’s head was a little more comfortable on my lap. He was still awake, and was now glued to my side. He had a fistful of sweatshirt twisted in his grasp, and he continued to shiver.

I gathered up the garbage and haphazardly tossed it into the back seat. After handing Sam a bottle of water, I leaned back and let a sigh escape. “How’re you doing?” Sam asked, wiping his mouth. 

I shrugged and grimaced with pain. “I can honestly say I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse, too. These nicely timed bouts of adrenaline help keep me going.”

“That was informative,“ Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well.... It hurts like…like…fuck it.” I sighed. “It just _hurts_. Like your shoulder, right?”

Sam huffed a laugh and took another drink. He glanced at me, flickered his eyes towards Dean, then raised his eyebrows.

I looked at the small child shivering in my lap. Shaking my head, I gave Sam a grim look and shrugged.

Sam recapped the bottle and lay it on the seat next to him, wincing at the movement. He sighed and turned on the radio. Once he found a station playing soft music, he settled into his seat and gestured at Dean.

I was spacing out just watching Sam, and almost missed the subtle direction to check in on our big brother. I roused myself and put my hand on the back of Dean’s head. “Hey there…” The shaking increased a little, and I quickly looked to Sam before licking my lips and trying again.

“Dean…c’mere, sweetie…” Sam’s eyebrows rose at the endearment but hey, Dean responded to it. He raised his head and looked at me. Two big, fat tears rolled down his face, and one second later, he was hiccup sobbing in my arms. I pulled out one of those travel packets of tissues that I snagged from the store and fumbled to open it while also keeping hold of my hysterical four-year-old. 

He threw his arms around me and cried. The stress and fear of the last two days had reached its peak. Dean sob-talked about how he wasn’t helping and how we wouldn’t be hurt if it weren’t for him, and how his head hurt, and he was just ready for the curse to be over. There wasn’t anything I could say, so I just held him and _shh shhh’d_ him and rubbed his back.

Sam had a look on his face that told me he was not only unprepared for the outburst, he was incredibly uncomfortable with it. Once again, he gripped the wheel and drove faster.

When Dean finally calmed down, he was completely in my lap, curled into a ball, face in my neck. He still shook occasionally. I checked his forehead and sighed.

“Fever’s back,” I said, cradling Dean’s head a little more securely, as if that would cool him down. The pressure from his weight was killing my side, but I ignored it.  
Dean needed this.

Sam sighed in return. “We need to get to Bobby’s. I don’t know why I didn’t just call him sooner.” He fumbled in his pockets for his phone.

“I dunno, Sam, maybe because I got clawed, you got shot, we’re keeping our twenty-eight-year-old four-year-old brother from being abducted by witches…”

Sam sent me a scathing look before tossing me his phone. “Here…call him.” His eyes were squinting in pain.

I nodded and dialed, trying not to jostle the bundle in my lap along with the wound in my side.

“Where the _hell_ have you guys been?”

“Hi to you, too…”

“I hear from you about Dean’s curse, then John calls telling me there was a huge fuckup with the coven over there. He said you’d contact me, and then I hear nothin’. What the _hell’s_ going on?”

I filled him in, amid a lot of cursing on his part. “Where the _fuck_ are you? _You need to high tail your asses here._ You got that?”

I swallowed, “Yeah – we’re working on it.”

“Christ, Kate...just...okay...can you make it? Do you need me to meet you somewhere? I - I’m worried sick over here…”

The idea of just stopping and waiting for Bobby was more terrifying than Sam driving while injured. I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No, we don’t know who’s a witch out here, and sitting somewhere waiting is just a bad idea. We’ll make it. I promise.”

We were now only four hours outside of Sioux Falls. Between the old atlas and Bobby, we got on the right road and headed north.

_**xxxxx** _

By the time we pulled into Bobby’s yard, Sam was running on fumes. I slipped in and out of consciousness during the ride while Dean slept burrowed against me the entire way. Somehow, Sam got us here in one piece, without passing out. 

Once he put the car in park, he sagged against the headrest, and ran a shaky hand across his face. I reached over and gently touched his arm. He turned towards me and sighed a smile.

Next thing we knew, Bobby was there, shotgun in hand, telling us to get out of the car and ‘git in the damn house’. We were happy to comply.

Bobby opened my door as Sam opened his own. He bent in to take Dean from me, and I pulled away. I didn’t want anyone taking him. I couldn’t explain it, but I had to keep him near me. Bobby shot me a look asking if I was crazy.

I shook my head. “I’ll bring him in.”

Bobby leaned against the car, worry and fear clearly in his eyes. “Missy, you can barely bring yourself in.”

Sam appeared behind him, looking like he was about to drop. Wordlessly, he moved in front of Bobby and motioned for me to get out. I swung my legs to the ground and took a few deep breaths, gathering strength for standing up. Sam wrapped his good arm around my shoulders and helped me out, letting me rest against him until I had my balance.

I adjusted my hold on Dean, and started the long trek to the house. Bobby moved in next to me, grumbling under his breath, helping me walk. Sam staggered slowly behind.

Once inside, I went straight to the couch. I couldn’t stay standing any longer, and I was afraid of dropping Dean. I sat heavily and leaned back, loosening my hold on my brother. Sam dropped next to me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He hissed and I sat up.

“ _Oh fuck_ , Sam, I’m sorry…”

He weakly laughed, which sounded a lot like a choked sob, really. He gripped his shoulder. “It’s okay…it’s okay.”

“No, it ain’t okay. I don’t know which of you to fix up first.” Bobby brought a first aid kit over to the couch and pulled a chair in front of us.

“Him,” I said.

“Her,” Sam said.

“Katie? Sammy?” Dean whispered, raising his head off my chest.

Bobby sat back in his chair. “Holy fuck…”

Dean turned at the sound of his voice. “Bobby?” He coughed. 

“Oh, son. You’re… _fuck, you’re small!_ Okay let me check you out.”

“No…’m okay…them...do them...” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against me.

I cut in. “Bobby, take care of Sam, please…” I gave Bobby the best Sam Eyes I could.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned to me. “Kate – you’re bandaged with a dirty blanket and duct tape. Stop fucking around and let Bobby fix you up. Put Dean down for a minute. We’re safe now. It’s okay.”

I looked at Sam for only a few seconds before caving. 

_He_ was giving _me_ The Eyes. 

_Fucker._

I whispered to Dean, “Hey…Dean? Go sit with Sammy for a sec while Bobby patches me up, okay?”

Dean’s little head bobbed up and down, then he crawled off my lap and sat next to Sam. 

While Bobby cut through the duct tape, and peeled away the blanket to inspect my _scratch_ , I watched Dean. His eyes were open, but drooping. He tucked his feet underneath him and was trying not to lean too much against Sam’s injured shoulder.

Bobby sat up and grunted. “You need a fuckload of stitches. This'll take a while. The bleeding's stopped, though, so that’s good news. Sit tight. Lemme take a gander at Sam’s shoulder while your side airs out.”

I nodded and swallowed, deciding that now was a good time for me to close my eyes for a bit.

When I woke, I was lying flat on the couch, and Bobby was stitching me up. “Whoa, missy…don’t move. I’m almost done.”

“Uggghhh...how long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to stitch up four fucking long claw marks. Now hold still.”

I obeyed, but I had questions. “How’s Sam? Is Dean with him? Are they okay?”

Bobby shook his head and huffed. “Sam’s fine – got the bullet out easily and he only needed a few stitches to close the holes. Took some pain pills and he’s –“

“I’m right here,” Sam said, walking over and crouching next to me. “How’re you doing?” He murmured, running his hand through my hair.

“Mmm…not dead. You okay? Where’s Dean? How’s he doing?”

“Dean’s asleep – I put him in our bedroom. He couldn’t keep his eyes open out here, and…I didn’t want him watching Bobby work on you.”

I nodded approvingly and closed my eyes.

I felt a small tug on my side as Bobby tied off the last knot. “You guys do remember that Dean’s not really a kid, right?”

Sam sighed. “He’s a kid now, and he’s scared as fuck.”

Bobby grunted at that. “Okay Kate, you’re all set. I’m gonna get you some pills. Be right back.” Bobby picked up the kit and walked into the kitchen where he keeps the good meds.

Sam helped me sit up and then plopped himself next to me, stretching his long legs. I noticed that he sat on my other side, so I leaned on him, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. 

“Tonight sucked,” I said sulkily.

Sam laughed and squeezed me. “Yeah, yeah it did.”

Bobby returned with three pills and a glass of water. I eyed them suspiciously. “Will these knock me out?”

“What, these? _Nah_ …”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Bobby – I can’t be that drugged up. If Dean needs anything – “

“If Dean needs anything,” Bobby interrupted, “I’ll make sure he gets it. You need to rest.”

I shook my head. “No – Bobby, no. I – I can’t. Just gimme regular Tylenol or something. I’ll be fine.”

“You two just...” Bobby didn’t even finish his thought. He just stomped back to the kitchen.

I nudged Sam, who hadn’t said a word. “You didn’t take them either, did you?”

Sam avoided my gaze and sighed. “No, just regular Tylenol. If something happens, I don’t want to be drugged to the hills.”

We both laughed softly. We’d endure the pain if it meant we were there for Dean.

Bobby soon returned, this time with regular pain meds, which I wholeheartedly swallowed.

“Have you heard from Dad?” Sam asked, crossing his feet at the ankles and resting his head against the back of the couch. He had to slouch to do it, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t all that comfortable, but he didn’t seem to want to move.

Bobby sat on the other couch and shook his head. “Nothing. I called him after I talked with you two earlier, but I just got his voicemail.”

I was about to ask what we should do next, when we heard a tiny cough and the sound of feet shuffling on the floor. We looked over and saw Dean, standing at the entrance to the living room, arms wrapped around himself and tears on his cheeks.

I sat up. “Dean? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Bobby raised his eyebrows at my choice of words, but I ignored him, focusing on the little boy across the room who looked sick, lost, confused and scared.

He looked around and shuffled over to the couch. “I really don’t feel good, Katie.” As he got closer, I saw that his cheeks were red, so his fever was definitely back. 

I’ve seen Dean sick and hurt before. I’ve taken care of him, nursed him back to health, patched him up…and done it all with love and affection. But like I said, this little boy in front of me pulled at my heart in a way I never thought someone could. I held out my arms, and he climbed onto my lap, shaking.

Sam grabbed a throw blanket off the couch’s arm and draped it across Dean’s shoulders. Again, I _“shhh’d”_ him, pulled him closer and lay a hand on his forehead. 

I looked at Sam. “He’s burning up…”

Sam placed a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and frowned. “There’s more children’s Tylenol in the car. I’ll go get it.” He groaned as he moved to stand, and that’s as far as he got.

Bobby grunted and got to his feet. “I’ll get it. You stay put.” He gave us a curious look as he walked away. I knew our behavior was confusing him, but I didn’t have time to explain or justify or anything. I was tired, I was hurting, and I had a sick kid on my lap whose head was buried under my chin, hand twisted in my shirt.

Sam leaned back and sighed. “Let’s get him back to bed once he gets his meds. We all need some sleep.”

I was nodding in agreement when Bobby burst back into the house, slamming the door behind him. Sam was off the couch in a second, reaching for a gun that was no longer tucked in his pants.

“They tracked you. I don’t know how, but they did.” Bobby was talking while he sealed the door.

I was a little slow to comprehend what was going on - they tracked us all the way _here?_ Were they outside? What about Dad?

Bobby tossed the medicine to Sam and yelled, “Get to The Room in the basement. _Now!_ ”

He didn’t wait to see if we followed his orders – he hurried to the kitchen and we heard him locking the back door. Sam helped me to my feet and we ran to the basement door. Even out of it, Dean knew something was up, and he gripped me tighter as I made my way down the stairs. I’m surprised I didn’t drop him – maybe Sam’s hand on my back helped me stay upright.

We got to Bobby’s Room, and Sam grunted as he pulled the heavy door open. He gently nudged me inside and turned on a light. There was one cot on the far side of the room. Cases of water and boxes of granola bars were stacked on a rickety desk in a corner, next to one small wooden chair. Sam propelled me to the cot and I sat down, again, surprised that I hadn’t dropped Dean in our haste to move and my inability to think or walk straight.

I sat cross legged with Dean on my lap. I could feel him shaking again and I held him tighter. We both looked at Sam who was crouched in front of me. He held out the medicine for Dean, and as soon as I took it, I knew what was about to happen.

He was going back upstairs to help Bobby.

I met his eyes, and held his gaze for a brief moment. I tried to tell him I loved him and to be careful and _for fuck’s sake don’t die_ in that one look. He breathed a laugh, planted a kiss on my forehead, and simply said, “Keep him safe.” He laid his hand on Dean’s head again, then left, closing the door behind him.

_**xxxxx** _

It took a while to realize that the protection of the room only worked if the door was locked. So I went to the door and locked it, returning to the cot carrying more worry and anxiety than ever before.

I said nothing. Dean said nothing. He squirmed his way into my arms again and remained quiet. Once again, there wasn’t anything to say. This time we were both passive players, waiting to see what was going to happen.

I was still holding Dean’s medicine. When Dean noticed, he sat up a little straighter, as if waiting for me to hand them over. 

I mentally shook myself. I was spacing out and needed to focus. There was no sound coming from upstairs. We couldn’t hear footsteps, voices, nothing. It was as if we were locked in a vacuum, waiting for someone to arrive at the door.

Problem was…who was gonna be at the door?

Clearing my throat, I gently placed Dean on the cot beside me, and staggered to the table holding the water. I ripped a bottle out of the plastic case and made my way back to the cot. As soon as I sat down, Dean crawled back onto my lap and patiently waited for me to rip open the packet and hand over the pills.

After taking them with a swallow of water, we leaned back against the wall. The only sound in the room was Dean’s breathing and occasional sniffling. I kept my arms locked around him, and tuned every sense I had in an effort to figure out what was happening above us.

I have no idea how long we were there. Most likely, it was a matter of minutes, even though it felt like hours. So, after a long period of mostly silence, the sound of gunshots made us both jump, kick starting our hearts and cueing the panic that had just started to settle as a result of the previous quiet.

Dean and I held each other even tighter, which sounds ridiculous because I don’t know how much tighter we could get. We started to hear noises then, but nothing that could tell us with any clarity what was going on. Gunshots, something being scraped across the floor, a shout or two. Rinse and repeat - nothing distinctive made its way to our ears.

I was so tuned into deciphering the noises above, I almost forgot about Dean…until he whimpered. That sound brought me back to The Room real quick, and I shifted so his face was looking up at me.

“Hey…” I started, realizing that we started a lot of conversations that way. “Sam and Bobby have this. Nothing’ll get past them. You know that.”

Dean’s head bobbed up and down, his hair flopping in his eyes. I brushed it out of the way and he managed a tiny smile. “I – I’m sorry. I can’t…I feel so…so helpless…I can’t…” His eyes filled with tears as his body jerked when another gunshot rang through the house. “Fuck…” he whispered and closed his eyes.

“I know… _*sigh*_ …I know…” That was all my genius, pain-ridden brain could come up with. I ran my fingers through his hair and closed my eyes with him. 

We sat, huddled on the cot, and twitched in unison at every noise.

_**xxxxx** _

At some point later, things quieted down, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a really bad thing. I picked up my gun, which I lay next to me on the cot, and calmly got myself ready. I knew I was about to find out who was showing up at the door.

I was expecting it to be Sam. I really was. Bobby would be somewhere close, but it’d be Sam standing there, knocking on the door with the family code, telling me it was okay to open up and get the fuck out of this room.

So since I was expecting Sam, I don’t know why I was actually surprised when it really _was_ Sam knocking on the door with the family code, telling me it was okay to open up and get the fuck out of this room.

Stumbling after putting Dean down, I fumbled with the lock until the door swung open. I cried out when I saw him, and he had me in a bone crushing hug before I could say anything more. I felt a tug on my shirt, and looked down to see Dean standing there, relief and lingering fear mixed on his face. Sam bent and scooped him up, adding him to the Winchester body collision.

Bobby’s gruff voice, masking the worry and fear, floated down to us, “Get a room, you three. Preferably upstairs. C’mon.”

_**xxxxx** _

Apparently, Dad took out the leaders of the coven - alone - as he said he would. The sassy part of me wanted to ask why he brought us there in the first place if he was actually capable of stopping them without help. The rational part knew that he wouldn’t have been able to do it if they hadn’t pushed him beyond all reason. I almost didn’t want to know how reckless Dad had been to finish this job. 

But if I had to be honest, I’m glad he was.

Bobby handled the phone call with Dad, so I don’t know any details. He did say that without warning, the three witches that tracked us just dropped dead - two on the front lawn, one out back. He’s guessing that when the leaders were killed, the underlings ceased to be. Bobby had no other explanation, but we’d never heard of that kind of connection within a coven. I knew that once things calmed down, he’d check into it. 

Right now, we were just exhausted, so I didn’t care why they died, I was just glad they were gone, and that we were safe. 

We still had no idea when Dean would change back, or even if he would. Dad and Bobby were fairly confident that since the witches were dead, the curse would end. “Fairly confident” was a pretty reassuring coming from Dad and Bobby, but nothing had happened yet, and we couldn’t relax until “fairly confident” became “hey look – Dean’s back to normal”.

So we retreated to my room and huddled.

Literally.

The three of us were in my bed, since it was larger than the ones Sam and Dean slept on. We needed to just be together without all-consuming panic controlling every minute. Dean was already asleep between us – it was the safest place to be. Sam’s the one who put him there, but Dean _wanted_ to be there.

Sam’s hand was in my hair and mine was in Dean’s. It was only a tiny bit fucked-up-looking, but we didn’t care. The last several hours fried our nerves, and we needed more than words to express ourselves. 

We knew Dad was on his way, and when he got there…well, we weren’t sure what would happen. Things became more clinical when Dad was around – mostly business, not as much emotion. All we could manage right now was raw emotion, so we took advantage of his absence.

Eventually I fell asleep, and I’m pretty sure Sam did, too. He could barely stay awake, but I knew he was waiting for me to pass out first. 

Just like Dean…always the big brother.

Sometime later, I realized my side was on fire and I was stiff and sore. I hadn’t done anything physical, so why I was stiff and sore was beyond me (I knew why my side was on fire). Then I remembered gripping a tiny boy for hours at a time, tense and anxious, so okay, maybe that had something to do with it. However, I was surprised that I could sense general body soreness over the gashes in my side. 

I remembered that the danger was over, that I didn’t have to hover over Dean and panic over Sam. Bobby stitched me up; there were horse pills I could take for the pain, so everything was okay.

I opened my eyes when I was ready to cup my palm around Dean’s forehead and brush the hair off his forehead...

…and found myself staring into Dean’s adult green eyes, attached to Dean’s adult head, attached to Dean’s adult body, which was (thankfully) dressed in adult Dean’s sweats and a long sleeved shirt.

I froze. A smile ghosted his lips, and he adjusted himself on the pillow.

My heartbeat ramped up, and I was a little overwhelmed with feelings of relief, and just _thankfuckinggod_ that he was okay. We stared and let our eyes ask each other the same questions that we already knew the answers to, and say the things we couldn’t yet say out loud.

_Are you okay? Does it hurt? No really, does it hurt? I was so scared for you. Are you sure you’re okay? Thank you for being there. Fuck…I just…fuck…_

I let a few tears slide down my face. He got to do it when he was a kid. Well, now I was back to being the kid, so I figured it was okay. He reached over and wiped them away, the familiar calloused fingers against my cheek causing a few more to slip out.

Dean shuffled closer, tucked his face in my neck, and we went back to sleep.

_**xxxxx** _

Bobby was making lunch while Dad was at the table telling Sam what happened after we left. I heard bits and pieces, but he stopped talking as soon as I walked into the kitchen. I was moving slowly, a hand pressed to my side, and I smiled when I saw him.

“Hey, Dad…” He was out of his seat with his arms around me before I could take another step. The familiar smell of his soap and a touch of whiskey brought a smile to my face. 

This was what I’d been missing.

He guided me to the table. Sam looked up at me and smiled. His arm was in a sling, and the bruise on his face reached its maximum purple. “How’re you feeling?”

I grunted, “Eh…tired and shitty, but I’m okay.”

“Where’s Dean? How’s he doing?” Dad asked.

“He’s in the bathroom...seems okay so far.” I turned to Sam. “When was the curse lifted?”

Sam answered, “Not sure - sometime after we fell asleep. I’ll say this…I’m glad he’s back, but never again do I want to wake up to my naked big brother in bed with me.”

Bobby choked on his coffee, and Dad smiled.

“Well, at least he dressed before getting back in bed so that scar is yours alone.”

Laughing, Sam sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. Bobby put plates of sandwiches on the table, and handed me a mug of my own caffeine juice. He affectionately laid a hand on my head before returning to the stove.

As I grabbed a sandwich, Dad walked over to Bobby. He leaned against the counter and spoke to him in a soft voice. Bobby paused while pouring his coffee, listening carefully, then sighed and nodded his head. 

What was going on? 

Sam noticed as well, because he nudged me under the table.

_What the hell is that all about?_

_No idea…_

Dad returned and grabbed a couple of sandwiches. He ruffled my hair, smiled at Sam, then went towards the library. Before Sam or I could say anything...

“You two okay in here? I’m...uh...gonna go over some stuff with your dad.” Bobby stood by Sam, looking back and forth between us.

“Uh, yeah - we’re fine.” Sam answered around a mouthful of food.

Bobby nodded, adjusted his cap and then nodded again. “Okay. Holler if you need anything.” Before we could answer him, he ruffled _Sam’s_ hair, then went after Dad.

Sam and I looked at each other. “When will we get filled in?” I asked.

Sam shook his head and took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s Dad. Who knows.”

I sighed in agreement. I was about to make a comment about always being the last to know, when Dean walked in. He still looked tired, but his demeanor was...chipper.

“Hey,” He said, going straight for the coffee.

We only nodded - our mouths were full. Dean poured himself a cup and sat opposite us at the table. He pointed to the cup, then at us. “Ain’t asking. Just drinking it.”

We laughed and Dean smiled, reaching for a sandwich. “Where’s Dad and Bobby?” he asked, as he took a bite.

I swallowed and gestured towards the library. “Super secret briefing on a super secret topic.”

Sam added, “Need to know basis.”

Dean looked over his shoulder as he chewed. “Huh. I’ll find out what it is.”

Sam snorted and kept eating.

The rest of the meal passed quickly and quietly. We weren’t going to sit and discuss yesterday’s events - we were still recovering from them. Besides, what would we say? Thank God it’s over? Hey remember when you were so small and you almost got killed? Wowzers, waiting in Bobby’s Room really sucked.

Yeah, no conversation necessary.

I noticed that while Sam had tucked away three sandwiches, chips, and a couple cups of coffee, Dean barely picked at his. I was wondering if he was really feeling okay, when he abruptly changed seats so he was next to Sam.

Sam looked at him questioningly over the rim of his coffee mug. Dean looked a little uncomfortable for a second, before getting down to business. “I wanna take a look at your shoulder, make sure the stitches are okay.”

Sam wrinkled his brow, glancing at me briefly before returning to Dean. “It’s fine, Dean, really.” He put his mug down and leaned back in his chair.

Dean nodded. “Uh-huh...and that’s why you grimaced while lifting your coffee mug. Upstairs. Bathroom. _Now._ ”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but one special look from Dean cut him off. He huffed, and slunk upstairs like a little kid being punished. I would’ve laughed, but I knew I was next.

“You’re next.” _Ding._ “Lift your shirt real quick and lemme take a look.”

I knew better than to argue, so I lifted my shirt to reveal the giant gauze patch that covered the scratch. Dean gently peeled it off and examined the wound. I winced in pain and realized I hadn’t taken anything for it.

“You haven’t taken anything for the pain, have you?” He asked, almost accusingly. He set the gauze back and smoothed the tape against my skin. 

I shook my head no.

Dean nodded and dragged a hand down his face. “Okay. The stitches are too red for my taste, and I think they’re a little tight...Bobby tends to sew that way. Wait for me upstairs - preferably while lying down and resting in your bed. I’ll bring you some pills, then I’ll fix these as soon as I’m done with Sam.”

“Okay,” was all I said. He raised his eyebrow at me.

_That’s it?_

I shrugged and smiled. _It’s good to have you back._

Dean huffed and shooed me away with his hand.

_**xxxxx** _

The rest of that day, Dean was in rare form. Insisting he was completely fine, he went into Big Brother Overdrive. 

He reached for anything and everything that was high up - even if Sam was around. He obsessively checked our wounds, the bandages, the stitches, applying cream and administering pain meds every four hours. He examined the weapons, helped cook meals, and even fixed a few things around the house.

It was as if he couldn’t find enough to do in order to prove he was still the Big Brother - the protector, the provider, the parent. 

Dean ordered Sam and I to engage in minimum activity. I needed less activity, but I didn’t need _fucking bedrest._

Apparently Dean didn’t get that memo.

He had a few days of not being the Big Brother to make up for, and he was gonna make them up no matter what.

Dad actually stuck around, spending most of his time with Bobby. We still didn’t know what was so secret; they kept claiming they were going over the details of this case.

We didn’t believe them.

The next day, Dad asked Dean to help him work on his truck, which morphed into a day-long auto maintenance project for the truck and the Impala. I chalked it up to Dad and Dean bonding time, which, considering how Dad avoided Dean throughout the curse, was definitely overdue.

By mid-afternoon, he announced that he was leaving, and he’d be in touch soon. 

Sam and I were reading on a couch in Bobby’s living room while Dean cleaned up whatever needed cleaning up from his and Dad’s Auto-Pa-Looza. It’d been a really lazy day, and I was loving it. Dean made sure our feet were propped up, blankets carefully placed on our laps, and pillows fluffed behind our heads.

It was a little ridiculous, but we weren’t complaining. The one dirty little secret Sam and I shared, was that sometimes… _sometimes_...we loved Dean’s hovering. 

As the rumble of Dad’s truck faded away, the back door banged shut, and Dean wandered into the living room. He was covered in grease and dirt. I vaguely wondered that if Dean was that dirty, how filthy was Dad?

Dean paused at the bottom of the stairs, absently wiping his hands on an old bandana. He sniffed, then looked over at us. “You guys okay?”

Sam glanced up. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Dean nodded, hesitated a second, then went upstairs. Soon, I heard the sound of running water as Dean, I assumed, took a shower.

I rested my head against the pillow and eventually dozed off. I was comfortable, in minimum pain, and lounging on a couch with my best friend. 

It was a good day.

_**xxxxx** _

“Dean? What’s up? You okay?” 

Sam spoke softly, but the worry in his voice woke me. I blinked my eyes open and saw Dean standing at the bottom of the stairs, shivering in a t-shirt and sweats. His brow was wrinkled and he looked lost and confused, like he wasn’t sure where he should be. 

Before I was fully awake, Sam was off the couch and halfway to Dean, who still hadn’t moved. I was reminded of the little boy who stood in that exact same spot a couple nights ago, and my heart beat a little faster. 

Sam reached out and placed a palm against Dean’s forehead. Dean just looked at him, and hugged himself a little more tightly. 

Frowning, Sam said, “You’re burning up, man.” 

Dean licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I...I don’t feel good, Sammy.” 

Sam glanced at me over his shoulder, concern clearly on his face. “Go sit with Kate, okay? I’ll get you some medicine.” 

Dean nodded, and Sam squeezed his shoulder before walking to the kitchen. 

I sat up straight and tilted my head to the side, watching Dean struggle over what to do. He still seemed confused, so I raised my arm and gestured for him to sit with me. His eyes cleared a little when he saw me, and he shuffled over to the couch. 

Once seated, I took a closer look at him. There were angry pink fever splotches on his cheeks, and I silently cursed at myself for missing the dark circles under his eyes. I covered him with my blanket just as a shiver ran through him. He leaned against me, making a sound that was almost a whimper. 

Brushing my fingers across his scalp, I asked, “Have you felt like this all day?” 

Dean sighed and nodded. 

“Waited for Dad to leave, huh?” 

No verbal answer to that one, but he did burrow closer. I pulled him to me and rubbed his arm. 

Sam returned with Tylenol and a glass of water, which Dean took without protest. After sitting down, Sam nudged Dean’s legs until they were on the couch, tucked against Sam’s side. Sam ran his fingers through his hair and shot me another worried look. I knew he wanted to talk about what was happening with Dean, but with Dean right there, it was a little difficult. 

I shrugged one shoulder, and stroked Dean’s hair, who shifted until he was more comfortable. 

Sam sighed, and re-opened his book, resting one arm on Dean’s legs, as an assurance of his presence. 

**_xxxxx_**

A while later, Sam left to make dinner with Bobby. I politely offered to help, and Sam politely pretended I was sincere when he declined said offer, ordering me to stay with Dean on the couch.

Snuggling (well, that’s what it was) with Dean was incredibly comfortable, and I was really enjoying the opportunity to continue mothering him, even if only for a little bit. His switch back to being an adult was difficult for me, and I spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out why.

I’ve never been around little kids - it’s not like we hung out with extended family at picnics or I babysat while in high school. I didn’t feel afraid or awkward around them, I was just ambivalent towards them. 

Nothing about this life encourages the idea of having children around.

I looked down at Dean, and watched his chest rise and fall as he slept. I brushed a stray hair off his face, and he sighed at my touch.

But...I suppose that our life _does_ encourage the idea of protection for those we love, at any cost, especially when they cannot protect themselves. We prove that love every time we risk our lives. 

I thought about the time Dean stepped in front of a Black Dog when it lunged at Dad, or the time he was in the hospital being stitched together after a bad Wendigo hunt, and he had to talk Stanford Sam ‘off a ledge’ because he couldn’t figure out his British Lit assignment, or the time…

...Or the time he welcomed a scrawny seven-year-old girl into this family, a girl who served as a constant reminder that his dad was unfaithful to his mom, whom he worshipped above all else.

This curse put Dean in a position where he couldn’t refuse our help, so we were able to “give back” without much fuss on his part. Refusing us meant he would die, and while he may have entertained that possibility on some level, we did not.

I liked being able to show him how much I loved him, how important he is to this family, and I know Sam felt the same. As much as this curse terrified me, it had its perks. So...if he’s sick for a little while longer, well, I’m okay with that.

Dean yawned and opened his eyes. He looked around, a little confused, until his eyes found mine. He visibly relaxed, rubbed his forehead, and gave me a half-smile. I shifted until we were laying down next to each other along the length of the couch. Dean wrapped his arms around me, burrowed his face in my neck and gave me a squeeze before falling back asleep. 

I guess it’s okay with him, too.

==end==


End file.
